


Waiting on a Friend

by AnnieMar



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Jopper, Season 3, Smut, because communication saves lives kids, doing dirty things in stolen convertibles, grown adults talking about feelings, happy screams, inexplicably attractive magnum p.i. shirts, magnet fixation, perceptive Murray is perceptive, scott clarke is an unsung hero, strawberry and cherry are two very different flavors of red, zen and the art of alexei
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-07-08 20:06:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19875331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieMar/pseuds/AnnieMar
Summary: What if Joyce had made it to Enzo's and her "not-a-date" with Hopper? How it all could have gone down.In which a few of these characters stop acting irrationally and start leveling with each other, because I've had about enough already. #jopper





	1. Waiting on a Friend

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to the Stranger Things fandom. So hey there! I'm anniemar ... I'm usually over in the MCU around these parts, but THESE TWO characters have frustrated me SO MUCH, that words just started typing themselves. 
> 
> I intend for this to be short and sweet, a few chapters, and I swim in the adult end of the AO3 pool.

**~~*...*~~**

Joyce ran into Enzo's, still in her work shirt and name tag, and was instantly given looks of disdain from the hostess by the door. She looked down at her rather messy appearance, but couldn't be bothered to care much about it. There were more important things ... like magnets losing their magnetism. And Hopper, of course. 

She went up to the surly hostess. "Sorry, I'm late meeting with someone." 

The girl seemed to know exactly who she was talking about as a look of relief ran over her face. "Just this way." 

It didn't take long to catch his eye, as he was glaring at her from a tiny table in the middle of the crowded dining room. Joyce took a quick look around, if anything to avoid his seemingly angry gaze. She threw the violin players a confused look, as she didn't realize that Hawkins even warranted a restaurant nice enough to employ them. When she finally reached the table, she tried to plaster a smile on her face and lowered herself slowly in her seat, her eyes glancing around the table. 

Hopper was wearing a scowl and a ridiculous shirt under his jacket, but somehow it just _worked_ for him, like everything else he did. He'd even unbuttoned the top buttons, his chest hair peeking through, like something out of Magnum P.I. It was all ridiculous, and yet it _worked_. She cleared her throat and looked up. It was evident that he was waiting for her to explain herself. 

"Sorry I'm late." 

He raised his eyebrows, and an expression flashed across his face that said _excuse me?_

She took a breath, and tried to not get too annoyed, tried to make an effort not to let him push her buttons. "I said I'm sorry, Hop … but have you met me?" 

His shoulders relaxed a little, and he gave her a tiny grin that he was obviously trying to hide. 

"And I'm sorry, I didn't have time to change," she said, looking down at her jeans. She quickly took off her work shirt with the name tag. At the very least, she could get rid of the name tag. 

Hopper picked up a bottle of wine he'd ordered and poured her a glass. "So there was a sudden late rush of customers at the store?" he asked with not a slight tinge of bitterness. He was mad, probably hurt, but it wasn't like she was purposefully trying to be hurtful. She wasn't purposefully trying to avoid him. 

Okay, maybe she was. A _little._

She gave a laugh and accepted the wine he offered to her. "They were practically breaking the door down. 70% off random things like garden shears and Tampax is no joke." 

At the mention of tampons, he choked on his drink a little. Hopper cleared his throat and set his glass down. "Do you want to look at the menu?" 

Joyce took a rather large gulp of wine, trying to calm down. She shook her head, not in the headspace to be able to think about it. "Can you just order for us?" 

His brow furrowed. "You don't want to pick?" 

She held up her hands. "I don't know what to get Hop, I mean, there's violin players over there for heaven's sake. I doubt I'll even be able to pronounce half of what's on the menu, and I'll just embarrass myself." 

He gave her a little grin. "You underestimate yourself." 

She took another sip. "Maybe, but go ahead and order for us. You know what I like." 

He raised a brow, giving her a look charged with a million different things. "Do I?" 

She sighed. Why did he have to look at her like that? 

She took yet another drink. "Yeah, you've had dinner at the house plenty of times. You know I enjoy overcooked meatloaf and runny mashed potatoes." 

Hopper laughed, his eyes brightening, and for the first time since she sat down, he relaxed completely, she was now back in his good graces. "Your cooking is excellent." 

"And you're full of shit." 

After ordering too much food from an overly pretentious waiter (seriously, these guys existed in Hawkins?), with Hopper enjoying it way too much when he said "… _and the lady will have"_ , he gave her one of his more penetrative looks, and she squirmed under the weight of it. It only prompted her to take another gulp of wine. 

"So why were you so late?" 

Joyce sighed and waved her wineglass-less hand. "Oh, you know me … I got stuck on a thing." 

"Stuck on a thing?" he asked, drawing each word out, over-pronouncing them. 

She shook her head, knowing she'd sound crazy. "It was the magnets. I had a bad feeling." 

"Magnets?" 

Joyce frowned, thinking about her "bad feeling." Unfortunately for her, and for a lot of other people, her bad feelings usually turned out to be true, which is why she was so worried. She suddenly realized that the person most likely to believe her, was sitting right across from her. She also realized that the quickest way for him to believe her was for her to level with him. He respected that. She'd been dancing around him for a while now, and it had obviously upset him … so maybe she should just level with him. It's what would be best for everyone in the end, and would probably save a lot of time. 

It was a good plan. And perhaps a plan made from a little too much wine consumed a little too quickly, but she was done over-analyzing for the moment. 

"Yesterday, after breakfast, I noticed some magnets on the floor … with Bob's superhero drawing." 

"Bob?" Hopper asked, looking wary. 

She sighed. "This isn't about Bob." 

"You sure about that?" 

Joyce nodded her head, emphatically. "I wouldn't have thought any more about it if the magnets hadn't fallen on the floor at work like they had at my house. It's weird, right? Magnets not working at two completely separate locations?" 

"You're sure it's not a coincidence?" 

"When are things around here ever just a coincidence?" 

Hopper took a sip of his scotch. He looked exhausted at the suggestion. "Hardly ever. But you're sure this isn't about Bob?" 

She gave him a confused look. "What's about Bob?" 

He gave a huff and sat his drink down a little too hard. "This," he said, motioning between the two of them. "You've been turning me down for dinner, for weeks. Okay, sure, sure, I can come over to your house with El, and we can have a nice meal in the company of many others, usually children, always making it about the children, but never _us_. Just the two of us. And finally, you say yes, we can meet up, not a _date_ , mind you, just a dinner between friends, of course. I'm just _waiting on a friend_. And you're _an hour late_. And you mention Bob in the first ten minutes. So how is this not about Bob?" 

Joyce closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. He was too damn perceptive. Of course, he was the chief of police, so that was his job, but she hated being picked apart like this nonetheless. Luckily for her, he was usually kind enough to not say anything about it, letting her set the pace, but tonight the two of them had drinks in their hands. And drinks had a tendency to bring out the honesty. 

She ran a hand through her hair, not wanting to think about how it actually looked. "I feel guilty about Bob," she said quietly. 

"It wasn't your fault," he said with the weariness of a person who's said the same phrase dozens of times. 

"It was my fault. I never should have gotten him involved … but I'd do it again if I had to," she answered, adding a new bit of information at the end. 

Hopper frowned. "What do you mean?" 

She shook her head, knowing all sorts of truths were about to be vomited all over the table. "I've thought about it a million times in my head, over and over. Bob helped save you when you were trapped in that tunnel. He helped to save Will, got us out of the lab. There's no way we would have all made it if he hadn't been involved. No way. He was Bob the Superhero. So he'll always have a place on my fridge. And I feel guilty because … it _is_ my fault, what happened to him, letting him get involved, but I'd do it again. Again and again, if it meant that my boys were safe. The kids were safe. That you were safe." 

And there was that penetrative stare again, the one that went straight through her. 

"You don't think you deserve to be happy?" he asked, his voice in that low, quiet rumble that still carried, that practically made parts of her vibrate. 

Joyce shook her head. "Not like that." 

"Not like what?" 

She gave a little frustrated growl. "You really want me to explain this to you in the middle of a crowded restaurant? With our food coming? And violins right over there?" 

Hopper took another sip from his glass, sucking on an ice chip for a moment before letting it fall back into the glass. It made her want to grip the tablecloth. It wasn't fair, how every little mundane thing just _worked_ for him. 

"Please do," he answered, tilting his head to the side. 

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine in preparation. 

"Okay. I'm not going to talk about _love_ here, because that's not what this was about. This was about _liking_ someone. Liking spending time with someone. And Bob just _liked_ things, liked them so much, he'd talk about them constantly. I never had to say much, never had to think about things too much. I thought he'd be good for the boys … because he _liked_ things so damn much. Just like Will with all his … Dungeons and Dragons, and Jonathan with his photography and Talking Heads. Bob was like them, he'd never get on them for the things they liked, criticize them … like their father did. Bob would _encourage_ them. But Jonathan … and even Will, I know they'd look at me and wonder what I saw in him, but that's exactly what I saw in him. He was the antithesis of their father. I can't say that I ever particularly _liked_ their father, though I did _burn_ for their father. And I _liked_ Bob … but I never _burned_ for Bob."

Shit, the wine was really talking. 

She took one more sip before setting the damn glass down, gathering courage for the ultimate truth vomit and staring at a breadcrumb on the table. She shrugged and gestured with her hands. "But what do I do with a person that I both _like_ _and_ _burn for? I've_ never … it's just all so …" 

Joyce took a chance and looked Hopper in the eye, who had moved past the penetrative stare and straight to his blue eyes looking seconds away from spontaneously combusting, a dark fire behind them, his jaw clenched. She was both nervous as hell and yet also a bit proud of herself for completely wrecking him. 

And just at that moment, the pretentious waiter decided to bring their food. 

**~~*...*~~**


	2. love, it's a bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the amazing reception and kind comments, guys. I'm always nervous joining a new fandom and y'all are awesome. I hope you continue to enjoy!

**~~*...*~~**

After a bit of an awkwardly charged dinner, Joyce and Hopper stood in the parking lot of Enzo's, neither one of them comfortable enough to suggest what was to happen next. 

She turned towards her car. "Thanks for dinner, Hop," she said, beginning to fish her keys out of her purse. 

He took a step towards her. "Hey." 

"Yeah?" she asked, semi-distracted, still searching for her keys. 

He lay a gentle hand on her arm. "Hey." 

She stopped what she was doing and slowly turned towards him, his close proximity making it extremely hard to think. Joyce looked up at him. "Yeah?" 

"Would you want to ..." 

She gave a nervous laugh. "What, Hop? We can't just go to your cabin, and you can't just ... what, leave El alone all night?" 

He grinned and gave a sigh, seemingly relieved that she knew exactly what he was suggesting. "It's early still," he said, his gaze soft, careful. "I just need to check on her. I can't stay out all night, but ... we don't have to say goodbye quite yet. Whaddya say?" 

Joyce bit her bottom lip in thought. The boys were most-certainly out for the night, just as they had been the previous one. It could work. But she also wasn't sure if she was ready for all of this ... and what it implied. On the other hand, she was also really tired of turning him down, when she didn't really want to ... and at some point, he was just going to stop asking. She'd lose him, keeping him at arm's length. It wasn't fair to him, and hell, it wasn't fair to her either. She wanted him, plain and simple. She'd been wondering what it would be like for a very long time now, if she was being honest. 

It had taken her almost too long to think about his suggestion, his face beginning to fall, thinking she was about to turn him down. "Okay." 

Hopper blinked down at her. "Okay?" 

She shrugged. "Yeah, okay." 

He took a step closer to her, invading her space, his grin spreading further. He brought his hands up to her shoulders, and she shivered, even though it was July. "You're sure?" 

Hopper had her backed up against her car door. Her eyes widened. "Hop, I said okay. You keep questioning me, and I'm gonna change my mind." 

His grin never left his face as he put his hands up, fingers spread, before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking it between his thumb and forefinger, and letting the smoke linger between his lips before inhaling. 

Her hand involuntarily made a fist. God _damn_ , he could turn something as ordinary as inhaling a cigarette into fucking foreplay. 

She leaned back against her car, suddenly a tiny bit weak in the knees. "The boys will probably be out all night ... you know, summer ..." she trailed off. 

He handed her the cigarette so they could share a post-meal smoke. "I'll just run by the cabin real quick, make sure everything is okay with El. I'll call if there's any hiccups, like if that stupid Mike is there." 

Joyce took a drag off his cigarette and gave a laugh. "Is he really that bad?" 

"He's a brat, Joyce." 

"Mike's a good kid." 

Hopper shook his head. "Sure, he's a goodish kid, but he's got a mouth on him. Must come from upbringing. Your kids don't act like that, they have respect." 

Joyce frowned. Hopper may have had a point, but she was still hesitant to call Mike a brat, considering everything he'd done for Will. "They all get moody at his age." 

He took back the cigarette for another puff. "Yeah ... but I can't imagine Will ever talking to me the way Mike does. And I don't like the influence it has on El." 

"Influence?" 

Hopper gave a huff. "When Mike gets disrespectful, she starts doing it too ... I think more than anything, that's what pisses me off the most. Not the kissing, though THAT is bad enough, but he influences her. She needs other influences." 

Joyce thought back to her girlhood and the effect that boys had. She wouldn't go back if someone paid her. "Sounds like she needs some more female influences in her life." 

He took another drag off his cigarette, inclining his head, a wistful look on his face. "Yeah."

Hopper bent down and brushed her forehead with his lips. She inhaled, savoring his familiar scent of smoke, soap, and men's deodorant. This time there was something different in the mix, as he'd put on some kind of cologne, and not the cheap stuff either. She wanted to wrap herself in it. She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking about how he'd cared about the details of their "non-date." He came wearing a shirt she'd never seen before, came wearing expensive cologne. Ordered her a bottle of wine. Paid for a dinner that was way too overpriced. And she'd arrived an hour late and in her work clothes. She probably shouldn't mention where she'd been for that hour ... until later. The magnets could wait until tomorrow. But they couldn't wait long. 

Hopper straightened and began to take a few steps backward. "I'll see you soon," he said with a wink and turned to walk off towards his truck. 

Joyce reached up and pushed her bangs out of her face in a nervous gesture, shaking her head. She wasn't nearly as smooth as he was, but she knew that she was pretty. She was attractive. She'd been called beautiful before. She hadn't felt it in a long time, but it was all still there somewhere ... and she needed to get her shit together. Fast. 

**~~*...*~~**

Joyce threw her purse on her kitchen table and put her face in her hands, beginning to freak out, wondering what in the hell she was thinking. She then took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. Hopper would probably call soon anyway, to tell her that he'd be stuck at the cabin. Mike would most definitely be there ... the door closed, not the required three inches. These were never the types of things that worked out. Shit always happened. Circumstances got in the way, it was the cold hard truth. The cruel nature of things. 

She let her shoulders relax with the thought and walked into her bedroom, having convinced herself that he wasn't coming, but it would be best to be prepared on the off-chance that he did. She did the math in her head, thinking she had plenty of time, so she brought out a few of the records she kept in a milk crate under her bed. Years ago, before getting ready for a date or a night out with the girls, these were the records she'd play. They calmed down her nerves while putting her in a good mood. Any night could be a good night with the right music. She carried two albums out into the living room, thinking about which one would be best. Jonathan thought she was clueless about music, and maybe she was if he was talking about The Clash ... but there was plenty that came before the Talking Heads and The Clash. 

As the house filled with the sounds of Sticky Fingers, she started to change and ran a brush through her hair, thinking if nothing else, at least she'd gotten out of her work clothes and into something more comfortable. She took a break from getting ready (for Hopper? For bed? Or TV? she wasn't sure) and began looking around her fridge, thinking she must have a half-full bottle of wine in there somewhere and heard a knock on the door. 

Joyce turned slowly in a daze and walked towards the sound, holding a bottle of wine that was probably a few days old and having convinced herself that Hopper was most definitely _not_ coming over. It was perhaps one of the kids looking for Will. Or Karen. Even though Karen never randomly came over at 9 pm. 

She opened the door to Hopper, wearing a big smile on his face. He'd also ditched his jacket, so that his ridiculous, yet inexplicably attractive shirt was in full view. It was a _good look_. He instantly stepped forward and picked her up in a hug, squeezing her tight.

"Hop! What the hell, oof!" 

He spun her around before setting her down. "Get this Joyce, El wasn't with Mike ... she was with Max. Yes, a _girl_. They're having a sleepover. A sleepover! She has a girlfriend!" 

Joyce laughed. "Well, that's what you wanted, female influences." 

"Yes, this is wonderful news!" His face was practically lit up with glee, beaming, but then a darkness passed over his eyes as they looked her up and down. "Wait wait, what are you wearing?" 

She frowned and looked down, realizing she wasn't wearing pants. She'd been in the middle of changing and had put on a new comfortable t-shirt and one of her nicer pairs of panties, but she hadn't gotten around to the pants yet. "Um ... I wasn't expecting you so soon, what did you do, speed down the highway at 100 miles per hour? Lemme just ..." She turned and started to walk towards her bedroom to throw on a pair of jeans, but he caught her arm. 

She stopped in her tracks, the warmth from his hand on her skin spreading across her whole body. 

"There's really no need for that, is there?" he said quietly, his vibe instantly shifting from the excited glee he felt from finding his daughter Mike-less to an altogether different form of excitement. 

Hopper took the forgotten wine bottle from her hand and set it on the table. He gave her a little smirk. "What are you listening to?" 

She grinned back at him. "You know what this is." 

He took both her hands, lacing her fingers with his. "The Rolling Stones album with the zipper on the cover, and the uh ..." 

"Erection?" 

Hopper visibly blushed, which she found adorable. He shook his head, laughing. "I wasn't gonna say it, but yeah. I always did like that you were a Stones girl, not a Beatles girl." 

Joyce pursed her lips in thought. "Yeah, I liked the bad boys, didn't I? The Beatles were all coy and said _'I wanna hold your hand_ ' ... but the Stones just came out and said _'let's spend the night together.'_ I always respected that. That honesty. Their music was just sexier." 

His blue eyes glittered with too many emotions. There was lust in there to be sure, but also disbelief that this was all happening, relief that she wasn't pulling away, an easiness that existed between two friends, but an anticipation that was only reserved for new lovers, and the peace felt when everything else finally fell away. There were other things in there too, things she wasn't exactly ready to think about. She could only do one thing at a time. And _love_ ... well, love had always been such a bitch. 

Hopper took a deep breath and seemed to come to a decision. He bent down and tentatively pressed his lips to hers. They were impossibly warm and soft. She raised up on the balls of her feet to help him out a little. Her eyes were closed, her hands gripping his tighter, his facial hair a gentle brush against her face, the scent of his cologne mixed with the warmth of his body was intoxicating. Heady. His comforting presence surrounded her, his tallness making her feel feminine and utterly safe. Safe in the way that meant total comfort in exposing yourself to someone, letting them see everything. Letting them inside you. 

As their kiss lingered, deepened, and they finally touched tongues, wrapping their arms around each other, something inside of her just _melted_. Yep, that was the feeling. And love ... it was a bitch. 

**~~*...*~~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No worries, I'm not a fade-to-black kinda girl. I just have to take a little break in editing in order to properly freak out over that SDCC marvel panel ;-) 
> 
> I'm also @anniemar on tumblr if you're into that sorta thing.


	3. what a beautiful buzz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bang 😉
> 
> And seriously, thanks again for the amazing comments and kudos. I hope you enjoy!

**~~*...*~~**

Joyce had thought about it hundreds of times. Usually she’d sit at the counter, bored at work, elbow propping up her hand on her chin as she daydreamed … and she’d had quite a bit of time for it lately. Her thoughts would involuntarily drift to Hopper. What his hands would feel like all over her body. What would it be like? Despite what some people in town wanted to think, she didn’t actually have a clue. They’d known each other a long time, shared a few weeks in high school as a quasi-couple, but that felt like a million years and several lifetimes ago. They were grown now, different people. There was always a fondness, strange feelings, some good and unresolved, and of course there was a friendship, but she didn’t know him in that complete sense. But she did wonder … 

And then sometimes he’d walk into the store. That was always awkward. 

She knew he wondered too, wasn’t stupid, noticed the way he was always looking at her, but wasn’t nearly ready to aknowledge it. They’d been through some shit together, like a pair of war buddies. It was overwhelming, thinking about sharing so much with another person. You had your war buddies, you had your friends, you had your lovers … but when did you ever have it all? When was _that_ ever allowed by the fates? 

But the apprehension, the fear, it certainly never stopped her from just _thinking_ about it. Where was the harm in thinking about it? 

Would it be hard and fast at first? Or slow and gentle? Would it be awkward as hell, a lot of laughing or cringing through the whole of it? Or would they move together naturally, caught up in some otherworldly rhythm. Would he be completely sure of himself, take charge, like he did in so many other situations, or would he prefer to take the proverbial backseat in the bedroom, lie back and let someone else call the shots when the door was closed to the world? And how would he kiss? Would it be intense and all-consuming, or would they fumble, butt heads, like they did in other aspects of their lives. 

At that particular moment in time, she was discovering that with the kissing part at least, it was utter perfection. Yes, it was intense and all-consuming, but also sweet and explorative. He wasn’t pushing, he was savoring, enjoying. He was present. 

Hopper broke their kiss and straightened, his hands coming from around her back and settling on her shoulders, giving them a rub. His eyes, heavy-lidded, searched her face. “So that was …” 

She sighed, finding it a bit hard to keep standing on her feet. “It definitely was.” 

An expression of concern flashed across his face. “You’re sure about this?” 

Joyce raised a brow. “Stop questioning it, Hop. Are you gonna keep asking me at certain increments all night?” 

He gave a slight shake of his head. “I just want to make sure …”

“Make sure of what?" 

He motioned between the two of them. “This isn’t just between friends. None of that ‘no strings’ bullshit … there are strings, Joyce. _Strings_.” 

She laughed. “You really want to have this conversation now?” 

He raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “No, not really, I’d rather be in your bed with my face between your thighs right about now, but apparently I also need to quit getting the urge to pinch myself every few minutes and ask you whether or not you’re still on board.” 

Joyce blinked up at him. “Um … okay.” 

He frowned. “Okay?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Yes! Okay? Yes! I’m sorry … it’s just hard for me to think straight when you say things like wanting your face to be … wherever, so the only thing I’m able to say sometimes is ‘okay’ … _okay?_ ” 

He gave her a slow, wicked grin. “My face between your _thighs_ , Joyce.” 

She could feel how red her cheeks probably were. “Alright well, less … you know, talking. More of the face thing.” 

Hopper gave a laugh, more like a low rumble in his chest, and bent down, catching her lips with his again. There was no tentativeness in his kiss this time, but instantly intense and they both groaned from the feel of it. His hands slid down her back, over her ass and caught the backs of her thighs. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around him, arms going around his neck. 

Her whole body relaxed as he carried her into her room; he knew the way. She marveled at his strength, how he could hold on to her with one hand as he opened her door and closed it, maneuvered to her bed and sat down on the edge, so that she straddled him, all while kissing and breathing each other’s air. Hopper didn’t waste time, probably didn’t want to take the chance that he’d wake up, or she’d change or mind, or one of the boys would come home. He began to lift her t-shirt up and she helped him out, pulling it over her head. 

The room was dark but there was still some silvery light from outside shining in. She watched as his eyes roamed around her braless upper-body, watched as his warm hands searched her skin, moaned at the feeling of his palms running over her shoulders, back, belly, and finally when they reached her breasts, how he expertly kneaded them, not too gently, not too rough. Her head fell back, neck arched, as his mouth closed around a nipple, and her hips began to move against his, just the thin fabric of her panties between her and contact with him, creating a delicious friction as well as a certain excitement from being nearly naked in front of him, while he was still fully clothed. 

As if realizing this, he brought his rather amazing attention from her breasts and kissed up her neck before lifting her again and laying her down on the bed. She took several breaths, attempting to gather her wits but thinking she didn't really want to, ready for whatever he wanted to do to her. The air in her room was cool and comfortable, it was her haven, these four walls, and she was all too happy to let him in and invade her space. 

He loomed over her on his knees and she sat up, going for the buttons on his shirt. With the last button, it fell open and she lay back with a reverent smile which he returned. 

This right here was one of the parts she’d imagined a hundred times, running her hands along his chest, his shirt (usually his uniform) hanging open, as she brought them down. She lightly scraped her nails along his belly and he growled, both of them breathing heavily. She settled back and watched as his hands went for his belt buckle, slowly opening it, a strange thrill running through her as the sound of metal clicked on metal. But before he went any further, he reached down to slide her panties down her legs and she tilted her hips up to help him out. 

He sat back, looking down at her. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” 

Joyce grinned up at him, _feeling_ gorgeous with the way he was looking at her, like a starving man. And perhaps it was true, that he hadn't been touched in awhile, that he needed affection and contact. 

Out in the daytime, his eyes were an unbelievable dark blue, his hair blonde or brown or even tinged in red, depending on the way the light hit it, but in her room, he was all darkness. His eyes, his hair, his brow, all darkened, and his handsome features became even more alluring, the angles of his face bathed in shadow. 

Somewhere, instinct had kicked in and she was relieved at how not having exactly been in practice hadn't been detrimental. It was like listening to an old beloved song you hadn’t heard in awhile, and yet you still knew all the words. She still knew how to do this. She felt relaxed and comfortable in his presence, but also amped up beyond belief. It was a strange dichotomy; every inch of her skin felt sensitive and warm, such a beautiful buzz.

She hooked a finger in the waist of his jeans, pulling him near. “You’re gorgeous too,” she breathed. “You’re all …” she gestured at him with a flimsy hand but couldn’t quite speak the words she meant. _Tall, dark, and so fucking handsome_. 

Hopper gave a low soft laugh, seemingly reading her mind, and obeyed her direction, finally settling himself on top of her as he kissed her, pushing his hips into hers. She cried out at the sensation, couldn’t help it, even though it was just his erection from behind his trousers, it still rubbed at her clit in such a way that it set her lower-half on fire. She stretched in pleasure, trying to chase more of it, her breasts, nipples, making contact with his bare chest. It was almost overwhelming, the feeling of his skin on hers, and the fact that it was him above her, his scent surrounding her. 

He began to kiss and nip gently down her body. She knew where he was going, as he’d expressed his desire to do so earlier, but it was still jarring, as his tongue met with slick and swollen flesh, his groan at finding her so wet and ready for him absolutely filthy and delicious. 

His strong hands gripped her thighs, spreading them, and her fingers found their way in his hair as she writhed on the bed, completely at his mercy. He’d joked much earlier in the day about him being the puppet and she the master, but in her bed, in this position, it was certainly the other way around. He was the master. 

“Shiiiiiit,” she moaned, and gasped when he added fingers, and practically lost her damn mind when he curled them in just the right way inside her. He was polished and perceptive and she sighed with the knowledge and realization that finally … _finally_ , here was a man that knew exactly what to do with his mouth between a woman’s thighs. It was a revelation, practically a spiritual moment, discovering such skill. 

She reached down to grab one of his hands. “Hah… Hop … Hopper.” 

“Mmmm?” 

“Need you … inside me … _please_.” 

He didn’t need to be asked twice, didn't tell her to be patient, just obeyed. He sat up and slipped his shirt off, then kicked off his shoes and socks, and finally stood up off the bed in order to get his jeans and boxers down and out of the way. She stared as his cock bounced a bit as he moved back towards her, as he was fucking _blessed_. She’d thought about this particular part quite a bit too, and wasn’t surprised exactly, as he was so tall, and broad, but still. Her body flushed with want … ho-ly shit. 

He hovered over her, his movements slow and languid, fluid, as if he were giving her plenty of time, no rush. He wanted her to be sure at every turn, wanted to see the anticipation and surety in her eyes before taking it all completely. She watched as he took himself in his hand and nestled the head of his dick in the cleft between her thighs, but couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer as he covered her body with his and pushed inside. 

They both gasped at the slide, and he gave a desperate moan as he pulled back that first time and thrust in fully. She spread her knees and wrapped her arms around him, urging him to move, her neck arching, head thrown back into the pillows, as she began to feel the real power in his hips, in his arms and shoulders, feeling the muscles beneath her fingertips as they worked above her. 

“Tell me what you need,” he said in her ear, just above a whisper. 

“Let me,” she answered. And with barely any words, they understood each other. They could read each other. He wanted to make her come and she needed to be in control for that, at least this first time. 

He rolled them over so she was on top and she began to ride him, while he lay back and guided her hips, moving a hand up to gently press against the small of her back. 

At the intensity of the new angle, and the exquisite and perfect press in exactly the right spot, she began to climb. Emotions started to intertwine with the unbelievable pleasure of him being inside her, moving and rocking. 

“Fuh … uck.” She threw her head back and closed her eyes, lost in the feel of it. 

“Joy … Joyce.” 

“Mmmm?” 

“Look at me, baby. Look at me.” 

She hesitated at first, as she knew that whatever she was feeling, was going to be written all over her face and in her eyes. It was virtually impossible for her eyes to tell anything but the truth, as she had absolutely no poker face. She didn’t want to hide from him though, not anymore. It took her a moment, but she did it, opened her eyes and stared back into his. Something in her chest swelled, in her heart, in her belly, along with her peak, at the look on his face, raw and open. 

“H-Hop ... “ He was hers now, she knew it. He’d been for awhile, she just couldn’t acknowledge it, afraid it would all fade away if she did. 

It was all too much, the moment too big, it needed to crest. She tilted forward for the perfect angle, now almost too intense, her lips hovering above his, until the orgasm hit, smacking her in the face with the shock of it, how for those few seconds she knew nothing but pleasure, nothing but peace. She found herself slowing her hips, about to fall over, her eyes barely open, when she felt him desperately squeezing her thighs. 

“Please don’t stop Joyce, don’t stop.” 

She grinned and resumed her movements, desire still burning, wanting to please him, wanting to wreck him, thrilled that she’d reduced him to begging. 

It didn’t take long, just a few more pushes and pulls and he came apart beneath her. 

For awhile time stopped completely as she lay on top of him, catching her breath, his hands never stopping to caress some place on her body.

As their breathing came back to normal, she began to stir, to move off of him, but he kept her in place, his arms not letting her go. It was then that she heard the front door open and shut. 

She froze, listening. 

“Will? Jonathan?” 

“Shhh.” 

She could usually tell which son was which just by how they shuffled down the hall, and this time it was definitely Jonathan, with Nancy in tow. She heard his door open and shut, but not before he’d turned off the music in the living room. Joyce thought about Hopper’s truck outside, the wine bottle left on the table, her closed bedroom door. 

She gave a nervous laugh. “Jonathan … and Nancy. They probably won’t leave his room for the rest of the night, but … he knows.” 

“That okay?” 

She gave a sigh. “Yeah, sure. You said strings, right?” 

“After that? You bet there’s strings, yes. Many strings.” 

Joyce chuckled. “Well, there’s some strings right down the hall. He knows, Nancy knows ...” 

“Wait … you let them close the door? No three inches?” 

She repositioned herself at his side, propping herself up by her elbow. “That’s absurd. He’s older, there’s not much use in forbidding it.” 

“He’s being safe?” 

Joyce laughed. “Yes, I’ve talked to them, a lot, too much for their liking, and there’s no way that Nancy would ever let him get her pregnant. She has too many plans for that.” 

Hopper scrubbed a hand over his face. "I can't even think ... about _that_. With El. How do I even ..." 

She reached fingers up to gently feel the stubble along his jaw. "Don't worry about that quite yet. We'll figure it out." 

He took her hand and kissed it, knowing the implication behind her statement, that they were in it together. They'd figure it out. 

**~~*...*~~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come. Let me know what you think 😉


	4. miss you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen a bit differently in my world ;-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, thanks so much for the amazing comments and the kudos. Writing this has been serious amounts of fun!

**~~*...*~~**

Joyce was on a mission. A magnet mission. 

“Hopper, we need to talk.” 

He’d opened his door alarmed and confused, looking as if he’d just stepped out of the shower, a beach towel around his waist. She wasn’t about to focus on how soft his hair looked when it was wet or how his skin was glistening and smelling of soap. She had magnets on the brain. 

He stepped aside to let her in, his brow furrowed. “Err. This about last night?” He asked, his voice cautious. 

Joyce stopped and realized how it all must have appeared to him; her barging in and demanding to talk. “Oh! No! I mean, sort of.” 

He blinked. “ _Sort_ of?” 

She waved her hands. “I mean … no, this isn’t about the uh, the sex. That’s all fine.” 

His face became incredulous, and perhaps a bit scared if she was being honest. “Fine? The sex was _fine_?” 

“No! Yes, I mean …” She sputtered for a moment. “Fine as in, the situation is fine, but that’s not what I’m here to talk about.” 

His brow furrowed even more. “Oh.” 

She was seriously blowing this, but she didn’t want to talk about sex, because then she would get distracted. She wanted to talk about magnets. She took a deep breath. “Hopper, the sex was … more than fine.” 

His eyes grew large. “ _More_ than fine?” 

She gave a huff. “It was revelatory, alright? It was mind-blowing! That better?” 

He gave a little nod. “That’s a start,” he said, drawing out the words. 

“Great. So we need to talk about the magnets.” 

Hopper rolled his eyes, his shoulders slumping. “Magnets.” He said as if he had really been hoping he’d never have to hear about magnets again. 

She walked over to his refrigerator to see if the same thing that happened in her kitchen, would happen in his. She dumped the contents of her purse onto the floor. 

“Joyce, what are you doing?” 

“Just watch.” 

She began to try to stick her growing collection of magnets to his fridge, but just like at the other locations, they fell right onto the floor. 

He looked at her like she was crazy, his mouth hanging open. “Okay,” he said. “You’re freaking me out.” 

This was off to a bad start, obviously. 

She decided to try and explain the best she could. She stood up. “See, yesterday, before I met up with you for dinner, I’d stopped by Scott’s house in order to ask him about how magnets could possibly be losing their magnetism, and he said …” 

“Scott?" he interrupted. "Who’s Scott?” He asked, a tinge of hurt in his voice. 

“Scott Clarke.” 

“Your child’s science teacher?” he asked, getting louder. 

Joyce sheepishly nodded her head. “He’s always been pretty brilliant, ya know.” 

Hopper pinched the bridge of his nose. “So what you’re telling me, is that you were _an hour late_ last night, so that you could go to Scott Clarke’s house and talk about magnets?” 

She grimaced. This was not ending up how she’d hoped. He was jumping to conclusions, obviously getting jealous, and he was beginning to push her buttons, the urge to push right along with him was bubbling just beneath the surface. “Yeah.” 

Hopper nodded, the gesture exaggerated. “Sure. Makes sense,” he said, dripping with sarcasm. “He’s pretty brilliant. Is he single, too?” 

That did it. She threw up her hands, as two could play at this game. “Well, I mean, on my lunch break I went to the _library_ and checked out a few books on magnets to read, but I didn’t understand much of it.” 

He frowned. “The library?” 

“Yeah!” She walked up to him and got in his face, as much as you can get in a person’s face who’s a foot taller than you. “I went to see your best friend the librarian!” 

He was taken aback. “My _best friend_?” 

“Yeah, your best friend! The librarian! And she lectured me for ten minutes about Will’s overdue library books! It ate up a huge portion of my break! She must be real fun at parties!” 

Hopper pointed at her. “She’s _not_ my best friend!” 

“Of course she’s not! Am I being ridiculous right now? Yes! Because that’s exactly what you’re being. Ridiculous.” 

He gave her a brief look that told her maybe she had a point. 

Joyce put her hands on her hips and raised a brow. “Though—and speaking from experience now—if you went down on her, I completely understand why she wouldn’t shut up about you for a year!” 

Hopper, looking a bit scandalized, took in a deep breath to say something, but she cut him off. “But that’s not why I’m here! I don’t care about the librarian. Listen, I’m sorry I was late, I lost track of time, and as soon as I realized it, I got in my car and drove to Enzo’s. I told you I got stuck on a thing, you know I get stuck on things! And Scott was building this whole big crazy contraption to explain magnets, so I felt bad that he’d done all this work and then I was just gonna leave, but I had plans with you! Okay?” 

He took a deep breath, took a few steps back, and sat at his little two-person kitchen table. She walked towards him. “The reason I talked to Scott was because he’s always answering the kid’s science questions, I thought he could answer mine.” She leaned against his little table. “And last night was amazing by the way. It was wonderful. I’m sorry I came at you with this all sideways.” 

Hopper’s face relaxed and he gave her a little grin. He held out his hand to her, which she took. It felt wonderful and thrilling. The beginning of it all. The two of them realizing they could do stuff like this now. Touch each other. Show affection. Joyce let him pull her towards him and he wrapped his arms around her. “Hop! You’re all wet.” 

His hands began to travel towards her ass. “Want me to make you wet too?” 

She gave a laugh. “Hop, I _need_ to talk to you about this. I _need_ you to listen to me.” 

He looked up at her and nodded. It was nice, him looking up at her for a change. “I’m sorry. Alright. I’m listening.” 

Joyce began to explain to him everything that Scott Clarke had told her, about solenoids, magnetic fields, how perhaps a hi-powered machine might be responsible, how there would have to be millions in funding for such an operation. She reminded him of the power outage days ago, and how it all couldn’t just be a coincidence. All the while, he kept his arms around her and she eventually sat in his lap, which felt like the most natural thing in the world to do. At one point she couldn’t help but brush his hair back and out of his face. He closed his eyes at the feel of her nails running along his scalp. 

“What if it’s them?” 

He opened his eyes back up. “That’s impossible,” he said softly, a bit distant, like the thought of it was too exhausting to contemplate. 

“But what if it’s not? Everything else that happened seemed impossible at first. I need to go look. I want to go back.” 

He frowned. “You want to go back? To the lab?” 

“Yeah.” 

“”Because some magnets fell off your fridge?” 

“Yes. I know it sounds crazy … but I have a bad feeling, and I’d feel better if I could just see it.” 

Hopper gave a sigh. She knew that sigh. It meant she was going to get her way, but he wasn’t exactly happy about it. “Alright,” he said. “We can go take a look around, but how ‘bout first we …” he began to lift her t-shirt up. “I _miss you_.” 

She pulled her shirt back down. “Hop! What about El?” 

He pointed towards a haphazardly scrawled note on his fridge. “She’s out with Max all day.” 

Joyce gave a laugh. “Kids can come back at anytime, like remember last night? We’re lucky that Jonathan didn’t come home ten minutes earlier, or he would have gotten an earful.” 

He gave a rumbling chuckle while his hands wandered, one creeping towards her inner thigh. “I seem to remember you getting pretty loud … right about here,” he said, as he brushed along the inner seam of her jeans. 

She bit back a moan and tried very hard to keep her wits about her. “Hop … you are playing with fire. You don’t even have a door to your room, you have a curtain.” 

His lips were at her neck, his facial hair brushing against it very nicely. “We could take a shower? I wouldn’t mind another shower with you. There’s a door to the bathroom.” 

“Your shower is tiny. It’s a tiny tub with a curtain around it, I’m not even sure how that would work.” 

His lips were now behind her ear. “With hard work, anything can be done, Joyce.” 

She giggled, she couldn’t help it. She’d driven to Hopper’s cabin with the express purpose of explaining the magnet situation and convincing him to join her in checking out the lab, not ending up in his tiny washtub of a shower. She decided to test him a little, as he may have been well-versed in certain areas, but he didn’t necessarily know everything. Like what it was like to try and have a sex life while living in a house with children who were old enough to know how the mechanics of it all worked. 

“Alright,” she said, grinning, and getting up and out of his lap. She walked over to his counter and jumped up on it. “Come here, let’s do it … and if you’re not completely distracted with thoughts of El and Max walking in on us, then you win … and you can ask me to do whatever you like. In the shower? Over the sink? Anything.” 

He inclined his head. “Anything?” 

She nodded. “Anything.” 

He raised a brow, looking at her with a deviant grin on his face, one full of the promise of shaking limbs, drenched in sweat, passion marks, and long drawn-out orgasms. She almost wished he could prove her wrong. 

“And if you win?” 

“You take me back to the lab … and we can do this later. In a room, with a door that shuts.” 

He stood up and marched over to her, stepping between her legs and grabbing her thighs. He caught her lips in a kiss and she put her arms around his shoulders. The kiss lasted all of four seconds before he drew back, breathing heavily. 

“Okay, yeah, you’re right,” he said, panting, his forehead resting on hers. “All I can think about is El and Max walking through the door, _dammit_.” 

She bit her lip. “So the lab then?” 

He gave a huff. “Fine. The lab. Let’s get this over with.” 

Joyce laughed as he pushed himself backwards from the counter and went towards his room to change into his uniform. He pulled the curtain back and shut it like he really wished he had a door to slam. 

“Son of a _bitch_.” 

**~~*...*~~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also @anniemar on tumblr if you're into that sorta thing. More to come soon!


	5. just another mad mad day on the road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter ;-) thank you for reading.

**~~*...*~~**

Joyce had no idea how they’d gotten to this point. Well, she did, but she was still trying to wrap her head around it. And now she was sitting in some strange guy’s crazy house who was certifiable, in Illinois of all places, because his one redeeming quality apparently was that he spoke Russian. And Hopper was now taking a Russian’s food order with their new friend Murray’s translating skills. 

How they got there? One thing led to another, one could say. It had all started with the damn magnets and ended up here, because while Joyce could definitely get stuck on a thing, Hopper also had that ability. One minute they were wandering around the abandoned lab, and the next he was being beaten up within an inch of his life. She hadn’t a clue as to what they’d find there, but she certainly wasn’t expecting some Russian soldier on steroids to show up. She’d hoped that they could find answers that would ease her mind, and then enjoy some alone-time. Instead of a second round of mind-blowing sex like they’d planned on, she’d had to drag his ass back to his cabin and prayed all night that he was alright. Joyce couldn’t help but feel guilty for it, as it had all been her idea, and there he was passed out on his couch, bruises forming all over his body. She’d just gotten ahold of him, only to almost lose him in the span of 24 hours. Though with their luck with that lab from hell, she wasn’t sure why she was surprised. 

As soon as he came to, Hopper had a one-track mind, the homicide detective instinct kicking in, and he became just as stuck on the thing as she had been. He was such a force, and they were a pair, a team. It was a sight to behold, how he was willing to do just about anything it took for answers … willing to punch the mayor, tie him up at his house, kidnap a Russian scientist, trek through the woods, steal a car, all for answers. All for _the thing_ they were stuck on. Because once one answer was revealed, it provoked a whole slew of others. 

She made sure to stick by his side, but after picking up (well, kidnapping) Alexei, she couldn’t help but feel a strange distance between them beginning to form and grow, along with the button-pushing and bickering. It was just another mad day on the road. 

And now she was sitting on some conspiracy theorist’s couch with a strangely passive Russian scientist and wondering at what point did she go wrong, did everything really have to end up here? Did it have to come to this? 

Hopper stood and took the keys to their stolen car out of his pocket, going over the food order one more time, and apparently irritated over having to go to two different places. Joyce looked up at him, worried. She didn’t want him to go, didn’t want to be left alone in this strange house with these strange people, didn’t want him out of her sight, and didn’t want the distance to grow between them any further. 

She could feel Murry-the-conspiracy-theorist looking at her. As Hopper walked towards the door, their new “friend” leaned down to speak to her. “You should go with him,” he whispered. 

She frowned. “Why?” 

He gave a rather patronizing sigh and nodded towards Hopper. “Because he looks tense.” 

“Tense?” Joyce gave a shake of her head, looking confused. “We’re all pretty tense.” 

Murray pointed towards him. “But Jim in particular looks _very_ tense. Tense beyond our current predicament of a possible Russian spy infiltration, if you catch my drift. So perhaps _you_ could do your patriotic duty and help him out a little.”

If she had pearls she would have clutched them. She gave a silent gasp. “I don’t know what you’re suggesting, but …” 

“Spare me,” he interrupted, suddenly looking bored and sitting down on the couch. “The two of you obviously need some time. Just go with him. Alexei is safe with me.” 

Joyce slowly stood, caught between wanting to go with Jim but also not completely understanding what Mr. Murray Bauman was getting at. “Ummm.” 

“Just go. Hurry. We’ll be fine. The Soviet scum only seems to be interested in cartoons anyway.” 

She found herself not wanting to be around the guy at all and rushed out the door, finding Hopper almost ready to drive off. 

He gave an exaggerated sigh and raised his hands in question from the driver’s seat. “What are you doing?” He was annoyed and cranky. He also looked exhausted. 

She walked up to the passenger-side door. “I want to go with you.” 

“You have to stay with Smirnoff, Joyce,” he said, his voice rising. 

“I want to go with you,” she repeated, raising her voice to match his. She took a deep breath, opened the door, and plopped down. She then reached over to where his hand was on the steering wheel and gave it a squeeze. “They’re fine in there. We’re in this together, remember? I don’t want to be … away from you.” 

He lifted his hand to give hers a brief squeeze back, but then let go to push the gear in drive and peeled off. 

Joyce took several glances at him as he drove, his jaw clenched and unnervingly quiet. She began to wonder at what Murray had probably been hinting at, but couldn’t possibly understand how he could know such a thing by spending all of an hour with them. Hopper was tense, that much was evident and expected, but was it really something more? And in a way she could help out with? She blushed at the notion. 

She thought about how relaxed and happy he’d been in her bed two nights ago, sharing a cigarette before he got dressed and headed back home. She’d been blissed out as well. It had felt like the most natural thing in the world, their arms draped over each other, legs entwined, talking about the kids, hinting at the future. It would have been wonderful to have him stay, but they both knew that wasn’t in the cards quite yet. 

His life had changed pretty dramatically in the past few years, taking care of El, becoming her dad, but she hadn’t really pondered over what the situation must have done for his lifestyle. The implications of it. Obviously it had been good for him, as he’d cut the pills out, cut back on drinking, and quit sleeping around. Or so she assumed, as she hadn’t heard anything to the contrary. But he’d also given up his privacy, as he had a _curtain_ to his room for heaven’s sake. He was a good dad, he and El were good for each other, both finding their way. He was trying, and doing his best. He was present, and if he didn’t know how to handle something, he knew that he could always come to her. That’s all good parents could ever really do … _their best_. 

But it was like a lightbulb going on in her head with the realization that Hop probably hadn’t been good and laid in _awhile_. Thinking about how long he’d been taking care of El, her eyes grew big and her eyebrows raised. Maybe two years? 

Was she really the first person he’d had sex with in _two years_? 

She slowly turned her head towards him and gave him another look. Could it be? Had he been that backed up? It sure would explain a lot. The dark circles under his eyes. Why his hair was slightly more disheveled lately. Why he was so, well, _tense_ all the time. Why he’d been so upset with Mike and El. They were just kissing, but they were also getting more action than he was. 

It was a messed up thought, but Joyce couldn’t help it, she began to laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” 

She put her hand over her mouth but erupted into more giggles. 

“Joyce?” 

She cleared her throat and tried to calm down. “Ahem. I’m just … I’m not sure how we ended up here. I’m having trouble … processing.” 

Hopper glanced at her for a moment and gave a nod of his head, seemingly satisfied with her answer. “It’s that smug sonofabitch Kline,” he growled. “Selling our land to Russians. I always knew he was a crook, but in bed with _Russians_? I’m starting to question my own perceptions over here, too. I thought Hawkins was lucky to get rid of the Department of Energy presence looming over the town, but apparently now there’s not anyone around to make sure that the Russkies didn’t descend like fucking vultures!” 

Joyce blinked at him. “Is that why you’re so upset?” 

He raised his brows. “Yes Joyce! What else would it be?” 

She shrugged. “I don’t know … you just seem …”

“What?” 

“Distant … and well, _tense_.” 

He gave a huff. “I should have listened to you from the beginning, I should have done a lot of things.” 

She reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. “You did listen, Hop.” 

He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. “It’s important to me that you feel safe, Joyce. That your family feels safe. It’s just ... important.” 

“I know.” 

“I’m serious … I don’t want you to …” 

Joyce knew what he was getting at. He didn’t want her to pack up the house and the kids and move from Hawkins. They’d discussed it briefly at the lab before the juiced-up Russian maniac had shown up, so she hadn’t had the chance to explain the whole situation to him. 

“Hop. I wasn’t … I mean. Yeah, I was thinking about selling the house, but you’re jumping to conclusions.” 

He frowned and turned to her. “What?” 

She shrugged. “I’ve been thinking of getting away from the house, not necessarily Hawkins.” 

“Why the house?” 

Joyce laughed. “A nice change. Maybe if we didn't live so far out, monsters wouldn't show up quite so often. And I won’t have to look at the wall I took an axe to, or the other wall I had to wall-paper over, or the hallway my son nailed bear-traps to and set on fire, or the shed we had to tie my other son up in. And Lonnie insisted on buying that house anyway, I never even liked it that much to begin with. I figured a condo might be nice, with Jonathan probably going off to college soon …” 

“A condo?” 

“I don’t know! I was just thinking about it. Melvad’s isn’t exactly doing so well and I need to help Jonathan with school somehow and …” 

He reached over and took her hand. “We’ll figure it out.” 

She eyed him, giving him a little grin. That was a rather presumptuous statement if there ever was one, though she’d been saying the same kinds of things to him in relation to El. Were they moving way too fast here? Or were they finally just catching up to the writing on the wall? 

She couldn’t help but think about what felt like so long ago, the two of them bringing Will in for observation to the lab, and Dr. Owens slyly sneaking in a “ _Mom … pop_ ,” with a wink, like he just _knew_. It had irritated her to no end, and yet it also felt strangely comforting at the time. In just that small capacity of Hopper looking out for Will after his return from the Upside Down, he’d been more of a father to him than Lonnie ever had. The thought was enough to bring the threat of tears to her eyes. Before they could appear, she put her other hand over his and gave him a smile that was perhaps a little too big. 

_Mom … pop._

The thought, the moment, it was all a little too big, so she did something that was a bit spontaneous and possibly also a tad reckless. She took her hand from his and placed it on his thigh … then moved it towards his crotch. 

“Joyce?” Hopper put both hands on the wheel and snuck a glance down at her cupping him. 

She scooted closer towards him, the bench seats of the convertible making this a bit easier, as far as maneuverability went. 

She tried to give him a sultry grin, but wasn’t sure if she succeeded. “Let me help you relieve some of that tension, just don’t pass by any semi-trucks, okay?” 

“Ummm …” 

She could feel him growing hard at the mere suggestion and he took one hand off the wheel to sling it over the seat, in order to let her move more freely. She quickly unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned, unzipped his jeans and stuck her hand inside, not thinking very rationally, just going with it. 

He was already rock-hard. Hell, maybe he _had_ been suffering from deprivation. 

“Joyce,” he sighed, his breath quickening. 

She licked her lips. “Just don’t … get in a wreck. The car’s already stolen.” 

He nodded his head quickly. “Just …” 

She blinked down for a moment. It had been a long time since she’d done this, let alone in a car, and it was a little intimidating if she was being honest, as he was fucking _blessed_ , but it was exactly what she wanted to do. It was crazy, but so was the whole damn situation. She bent down and put her lips to his cock, running her tongue along the rim. 

“Oh, thank god. Yeah … _shit_.” 

This wasn’t a situation for teasing, it wasn’t for taking her time, it was about getting down to business, so to say. So she just went for it, taking him in as much as she could, using her hand for what she couldn’t. In the past, she’d loved this and was vaguely worried that she’d not be quite as good as she’d once been, but it was as they say … _like riding a bicycle_. It all came back to her. She loved hearing his breath hitch, feeling his stomach muscles jump, the groans he was trying and failing to stifle. She found herself lost in the feeling of it, concentrating on her breathing and trying not to choke as she took him deeper. 

At some point she realized that the car had stopped and his hand had found its way in her hair, not pushing her, but kneading her scalp, needing to be a part of the rhythm. His hips were raising a little in order to meet with her mouth and she knew he was close. 

Soon, he was tapping on her shoulder. “Joyce,” he panted in warning. “I’m gonna …” 

“Mmmmmm.” 

The vibration from the hum around his cock sent him over and he came down her throat, his groan strangled and desperate, like she'd cut out his heart. She caught her breath for a second, giving him a few kisses and licks to help him come down. She wiped at her eyes and mouth before sitting up and seeing him about as relaxed as she’d ever seen him, his head thrown back against the seat, his breathing returning to normal. It was a very satisfying sight, but as she began to look around, she started to help him to tuck himself back into his pants. He’d parked in a shaded area of the back of a 7-11, and it seemed vacant and relatively private, but she didn’t want to take anymore chances. 

“Joyce.” 

“Hm?” 

He was giving her one of his goofy smiles. He looked so damn attractive in his strangely attractive shirt, blissed out, the light through the trees dancing across his handsome face. “C’mere,” he said, pulling her into his lap. 

“Hop! What are you …” 

He kissed her, his lips insistent and passionate, one of his hands traveling from her thigh to the button on her jeans. 

She desperately wanted him to go there but she broke the kiss. “Hop … what are you …” 

“In my world Joyce, these things are always reciprocated.” 

She gave a flimsy laugh. “It’s not necessary, we’re kind of out in the open here. This is a little harder to hide.” 

“No one can see us, I’m keeping an eye out.” 

His hand had managed to unzip her jeans and her eyes were about to roll back in her head with how turned on she was. “You don’t have to …” 

“I want to.” 

“It’s not that easy for me.” It was true. She normally needed to be in a totally comfortable environment, as well as completely familiar with her partner, in order for her to come like this. Most men needed some time to learn, most men actually didn’t have much of a clue. But Hopper wasn’t most men. 

He stopped his hand and looked her in the eyes, his a bright blue in the light. “If you’re not comfortable we can stop, no problem, but I’d like to try. You were so good to me. _So_ good.” 

She gave him a nod and he grinned. She moved to straddle him and his hand resumed its attention, slipping beneath her panties. She clutched at his shoulders and moaned into his neck as his fingers met with her slick flesh. 

“Fuck … so wet, baby.” 

She held on and kissed him as his fingers expertly circled her clit, not pressing too hard, not being too light about it … just right. She broke the kiss and moaned into his ear, her head falling to his shoulder, lost in the feel of it. 

“This is all I’ve been able to think about,” he said, his voice in that low purr of his, the one that always practically made her vibrate. “The way you moved while you were riding me, it’s all I can see. So goddamn beautiful. You’re all I want.” 

“Hop,” she sobbed. It was actually there, it was actually starting, the beginning of an orgasm. 

“I’ve gotcha. Shhh, I gotcha.” 

She began to press into his fingers more, needing more friction, the orgasm building. “ _Fuck_ ,” she gasped. 

“Mmmm, you’re so gorgeous, about to come apart all over my hand. I can’t wait to get you back in a bed … we’re gonna shut the door ... and I’m gonna fuck you all night.” 

He certainly had a way about him, he was able to make her forget that she was riding his hand in a stolen convertible, in the back of a damn convenience store parking lot. He was able to touch her in exactly the right way, to adjust and follow her lead instinctively. She didn’t know if it was because they were already in tune with each other in some way, or if he really was just that good, just that perceptive. He could also make the filthiest things sound the sweetest with that voice in her ear. It had her just on the edge. 

She tried to stifle her moans into his neck as the peak finally hit, bursting and traveling through every cell of her body. Suddenly his hand was a little too much, she’d grown too sensitive and she reached down to still it, as she lay in his lap panting, coming down. 

He kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her. “I’ve gotcha. Always.” 

“I know,” she whispered, nuzzling into his chest. It was beginning to become too hot for all this, but she wanted to enjoy it for just a few more seconds. “Me too.” 

Later, after emerging from the 7-11 ladies room and splashing water on her face, she caught up with Hopper at the register. His shoulders definitely seemed much more relaxed and perhaps even the dark circles under his eyes had brightened up. Somehow he looked lighter, happier. It felt good, thinking she had that effect on him. He’d certainly made her feel pretty damn good. 

She eyed the large red slurpee in his hand. “Did you make sure to get cherry?” 

He gave her a grin. “It’s all sugar on ice.” 

“If you say so.” 

**~~*...*~~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking one or two more chapters for this one. We'll see how it goes. Let me know what ya think, if you're so inclined ;-)


	6. a head full of snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is a little more dream-like, intentionally a bit choppy for the feeling of it, as they've all had a terrible night. Hope it comes across okay ;-) 
> 
> Again, thanks for reading guys. I'm having a ball writing these characters.

**~~*...*~~**

Joyce sat with El and Will in the back of an ambulance while the parking lot of the Starcourt Mall buzzed with action. The three of them had been cleared to go home, but she refused to go anywhere without seeing Hopper, who had disappeared with Dr. Owens soon after he’d arrived. 

The night began to come back to her in flashes. 

Her thoughts drifted first to Alexei. To his slumped form at the carnival. They’d known him for two days at the most; he’d started out being an enemy and ended up being ... well, a friend. She discovered along the way that she admired him. It wasn’t because he was brilliant or that he’d sided with them in the end, and explained exactly what they needed to know to save everyone that she loved, along with reality itself. It was because of how present he was, easy-going, relaxed, and groovy. She didn’t think it was an act. He had a serene quality about him, something that seemed very different from the other so-called “brilliant” scientists she’d known. Dr. Brenner’s calm facade was a product of his arrogance and narcissism; while Owens had a practiced air about him. Owens was quite a bit more human, taking out his anxiety on his little stress ball. She didn’t know if Alexei even needed a stress ball, as he seemed to be able to go along with whatever situation he happened to find himself in. He could adjust at a moment’s notice. She wondered if it was a superpower. 

El could move things with her mind. Alexei could accept his situation and go with the flow. 

Are you handcuffed to a tree? Sure, politely nod and listen to a strange woman you don’t understand talk about magnets. 

Are you lost in the woods? Run with glee when you spot a convenience shop. 

Are you being made out to be a child murderer as well as one of the most dangerous men on the planet? Casually sip on your Slurpee. 

Are you stuck in some strange man’s conspiracy-bunker in Illinois? Just shrug your shoulders, make the best of it, and enjoy some cartoons. Make yourself at home and sleep soundly on his couch. 

She admired him. Truly. 

From now on, if she ever felt that familiar and utterly uncomfortable electricity of anxiety creeping up her neck, she’d silently ask herself _how Alexei would handle this?_ From now on, she’d order a cherry Slurpee at the movie theater, even if she felt silly. There was no age-limit. Indulge yourself in the little things, even if it feels like the world is ending. Enjoy. Take pleasure. Be present. Watch cartoons. Consider saving the world. 

It’s what Alexei would do. 

**~~*...*~~**

She felt like she had a head full of snow. She had an awareness that she was in shock, as Will was explaining El’s injuries to a paramedic while she blinked at them, unable to contribute much. For once, Will hadn’t had to bear the brunt of it all. He hadn’t been taken away. She silently thanked God, the stars, the universe, anyone listening. He had total agency this time, and he used it, able to comfort El in Mike and Hopper’s sted, as Mike had been ushered home by a frantic Karen. And Hopper? Hopper was still off with the men. They were always wearing black. They never had characteristic features. They wore their fedoras. They were blank humans. She worried that he’d been gone too long, but if things had worked out slightly differently, he’d be gone forever. The thought of it made her begin to shake.

_What would Alexei do?_

Distraction. 

She opened her mouth to speak. “Will, honey, what’s happened with Max’s brother?” 

Her son’s huge sympathetic eyes caught her shivering, huddling under a thin blanket. “He’s in pretty bad shape. He wouldn’t have lasted much longer if you hadn’t …” 

“Yeah.” 

It wasn’t quite the right distraction, but it did put her mind somewhere else; to Dustin’s ridiculous song with his walkie talkie girlfriend. As soon as they’d started singing both she and Hopper had exchanged glances, minds were practically exploding, wondering how in the hell their lives ended up entangled with Russians, gigantic flesh-monsters, and now children singing The Neverending Story while their lives were on the line. 

She’d unbuttoned the shirt of the dead Russian soldier she happened to be wearing and pulled a piece of paper out of her bra. She’d slipped it there for safe-keeping, just in case. She’d handed it to Hopper. 

“What’s this?” 

“It’s Planck’s constant.” 

Hoppers eyes went wide. “Where’d you get it?” 

She shrugged. “I didn’t trust Murray with all our lives and Alexei is dead. So I found a phone at the Orange Julius and called Scott Clarke.” 

Hopper grinned, his face lighting up. “Thank god for Scott fuckin’ Clarke!” 

He’d turned around and entered the numbers, this time successfully, while the duo sang their tooth-ache-inducing tune in the background. 

Joyce blinked, returning to the ambulance, to the present. 

“Will, I’m going to have a talk with Dustin about being in relationships with manipulative people, and how you should never be made to do anything you don’t want to do in exchange for something you need that they’re withholding.” 

Her son’s brows raised. He knew she’d been in shock, but she was rarely so blunt about his friends. She was known as the _nice_ mom, the _understanding_ mom. “Yeah,” he nodded. “That was uh … everyone in the car was very confused.” 

She couldn’t help it any longer, as laughter bubbled to the surface. It was all so ridiculous. _Too_ ridiculous. Their lives had hung in the balance _over a song_. 

El looked between the two of them, wondering what they were talking about. “What happened?” 

Joyce looked at her with strange envy. The poor girl had suffered even more trauma that night, adding to a vast pile that one person shouldn’t have to deal with in ten lifetimes, but at least _she had missed that damn song_. 

Will shook his head in disbelief, a small smile on his lips. “I’m not even sure if I could explain it right. Only that Dustin’s girlfriend is real.” 

El gave a little surprised laugh. “Suzie is real?” 

He nodded. “She’s real. Though I’m not sure if she’s gonna be ‘party-approved.’” 

“Why?” 

“Dustin will never live this down.” 

Joyce hopped out of the squad car to have a smoke. She couldn’t think about how closely they’d all brushed with death over a song.

She was pretty sure it’s what Alexei would have done. 

**~~*...*~~**

Joyce had barely smoked her cigarette. Instead, she held it between her fingers, staring at the destroyed mall. It looked funny, comical, all the bright colors and neon lights, the backdrop for something so very dark. There were dozens of dead people in there. Some were enemies. Others were the remains of simple town citizens. People just trying to live their lives. Now they were just a vague mass pile of meat and bones. She looked down to see the cigarette burned down to the filter, mostly ash. She gave a jump, realizing it was burning her finger, and let it fall to the ground. 

Her mind then went to the Russian maniac who fell to the ground, right after she’d shot him, the sound of it still ringing in her ears. 

They had turned the keys. The machine had blown up before their eyes, from behind the glass. She had sensed him creeping upon them. 

He was out of chances. No more. He’d nearly killed Hopper several times. He’d murdered Alexei in cold blood. He was done wreaking havoc. 

He’d once taunted that Hopper wouldn’t shoot him, as he was a cop. Hop had rules. 

Joyce had no such rules. He hadn’t known what she was willing to go through to protect the people she loved. 

She hadn’t thought twice. She’d just automatically took the pistol that once belonged to her dead Russian soldier’s uniform and shot the bastard. He’d been going for Hopper, hadn’t even deemed her as a threat. A fatal mistake. 

She didn’t even know how to use a damn gun; it had been pure instinct as if someone else was calling the shots through her. Like she was channeling the woman from that Terminator movie. 

She’d shot him through the neck. It took a second, but he was dead. He didn’t miraculously keep getting up like he’d been doing for the past few days, like some deranged robot zombie. And she’d felt nothing, looking down at his lifeless eyes, and that’s what had scared her. The _nothing_. 

Hopper had slowly taken the gun out of her hand and put his arms around her. “Whatever happens,” he said in her ear. “I did this. I killed those soldiers. I did this, too.” 

She’d looked at him with wide eyes and nodded. He was trying to protect her, but she didn’t care who knew that she’d killed him. She only wanted to get out of the Russian uniform. It was suffocating her. 

And now Hop was off with those men, and she didn’t trust them. She had no idea how they were going to cover it all up this time, and the flames of paranoia started to lick up her neck. What if there was a point in which Hopper just knew too much? In which they all just knew too much? 

What was the government willing to do to keep this all a secret? 

Her heart started to beat out of her chest, and she was having trouble breathing. Panic was setting in. 

_What would Alexei do?_

She started taking deep breaths. She went back to Will and El. 

**~~*...*~~**

After Joyce had gotten her breathing and her thoughts under some semblance of control, she made a mental note of where everyone had gone. She felt an affinity for these kids, after all. Over the past few years, she’d made sure to keep an eye on them, to keep them close, make sure they were okay. They’d seen things no child should have to experience, and the people they were able to talk about it with were extremely limited. So she looked after them from a close distance. 

Mike and Nancy had gone home after being checked out by paramedics. Karen and Ted had insisted they leave as soon as possible. Jonathan had driven Nancy, making sure that she was tucked in okay, but promising to come back. 

Dustin had gone off with Steve and a girl she’d never met before. Robin. Joyce made a mental note to speak with her at some point soon. 

Lucas and Erica were safe at home. 

And that only left … 

“El, sweetie, do you know where Max is? Is she okay?” 

She looked at her with tired eyes. She looked pale and drawn, exhausted. They’d been there for hours, but El wasn’t going anywhere without Hopper either. “Max is with Billy.” 

Joyce nodded. “Do you think she’ll need a place to stay tonight? I’m sure that her parents are going to be occupied all night.” 

A look of sadness flashed across the girl’s face. Grief. Empathy. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” 

El bit her lip before speaking. “Their dad … is a bad man.” 

Joyce and Will exchanged glances, guessing at what she meant by that. “Would you want to ask Max if she’d like to stay with us tonight?” 

The “us” was, of course, a given. El and Hopper would be staying with her. For one, their cabin had been wrecked, and for two, she wasn’t letting them go for a while. 

El quickly nodded, and she went off with Will to find Max. 

It wasn’t much later that they came back with the girl, looking haunted, white as a ghost. She’d always seemed thick-skinned and guarded, but here she was vulnerable among them, her walls broken down that night. 

Joyce automatically opened her arms, and the girl stepped inside them, sobbing. “It’s all gonna be okay, sweetheart. It’s gonna be okay.” 

El and Will also put arms around them, in one big four-person embrace. 

Max was scared out of her mind, wondering what would happen to Billy. Once the dust settled, one could say that he was responsible for many deaths that night. Billy’s dad was going apeshit trying to make sense of it all; the special forces brought in were not exactly being forthcoming. As Billy was being treated on-site, they wouldn’t let the family near him, as most of the mall was now roped off, as secure as Area-51. Max’s mom was busy with Billy’s dad … so that left Max on her own. To process everything by herself. 

Joyce wondered how often Max was left alone in such a way. 

**~~*...*~~**

Billy was in critical condition. Joyce only knew him as Max’s rather aggressive older step-brother, the one who had given Steve a concussion the year earlier. The one who’d contributed to her house being even more wrecked. He’d assaulted Lucas, threatened the kids, and who knows what he’d done to Max over the years. And yet she felt sympathy for him, as he hadn’t had agency, he’d been possessed. Like Will. But most of her compassion was with Max, who obviously had an affection for him. Love, even. 

They were unsure about how much was known about Billy, and none of them were itching to spill. He might have been troubled. He might not have been a nice guy. But he hadn’t deserved to have his mind taken from him, to be made into a vehicle for the Mind Flayer. 

Even El, who had been stalked and attacked by him, was able to have compassion, was able to see who was pulling the strings. The Mind Flayer. His father. He’d broken through in the end, able to cut the strings. 

Joyce wasn’t sure if she could ever see herself keeping Billy close though. Like the others. She decided to leave it, think on it another day. 

**~~*...*~~**

Jonathan returned, but Hopper still hadn’t, and Joyce was now pacing, chain-smoking. Even Alexei would be stressed at this point, she decided. The five of them were waiting by her son’s car as the scene was becoming less and less active. Eventually, one of the nondescript “special forces” men came to talk to her. 

He inclined his head. “Ma’am, you’ve been cleared to go home, who are you waiting for?” 

She knew that in the grand scheme of things, and these people’s eyes, Hopper wasn’t anything to her. He wasn’t family, he wasn’t her husband, and she didn’t exactly know what to call him. And it wasn’t any of this guy’s damn business anyway. 

Joyce took a long drag off her cigarette before speaking. “I’m waiting on a … friend.” 

She rolled her eyes at herself. 

The man wasn’t impressed. “You’ve been cleared, and you need to go home.” 

What the man failed to understand was that she wasn’t going home without Hopper. She wasn’t going anywhere. It absolutely was not going to happen. 

There was no more “ _what would Alexei do_ ,” there was only “ _what would Joyce do_.” 

She took a deep breath, conjured fire in her eyes, and pointed her cigarette at him. “I AM WAITING ON THE LOVE OF MY LIFE, OKAY!? IS THAT BETTER? And I’m NOT going home without him! And his DAUGHTER isn’t going home without HER DAD! We have been through HELL over the past few days doing YOUR JOB I might add, and we’re getting VERY TIRED of having to do YOUR JOB over the years, so I would appreciate it if you would cut the shit, go and get Jim Hopper, and BRING HIM TO US, so that we can ALL GO HOME!” 

The man blinked at her, most definitely not expecting such an onslaught. “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered and turned on his heel. 

“THANK YOU!” 

Joyce squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, wincing, before slowly turning towards the kids and opening them. They were staring at her, in varying levels of surprise. Max was grinning with her eyebrow raised. El had her hands over her mouth but was smiling underneath. Will looked shocked while Jonathan seemed dumbfounded. 

She dropped her cigarette butt on the ground. “So … I was wondering if we could just keep that between us?” she asked the kids. 

“Too late.” 

She could _hear_ the smile in his voice. 

Joyce turned around and saw him standing there, half in shadow. He looked exhausted, but he looked like himself, alive, back in his Hawaiian shirt and jeans. 

“ _Hop_.” There was so much emotion in just that one syllable. 

She ran the short distance between them, reached up to tug on his collar, and pulled his lips down to hers. She wrapped her arms around him, and he embraced her back, so very tight, but she didn’t mind at all. The kiss didn’t last long as there were kids behind them, but tears were beginning to flow.

“ _Joyce_.” 

Eventually, she felt El’s arms around them as well, and both Joyce and Hopper pulled her closer. 

Joyce looked up at him, her eyes all wet. “You were already walking up, weren’t you.” 

He grinned down at her. “Sure was.” 

“I didn’t make that guy do anything, did I.” 

He shook his head. “Not a thing.” 

“Great,” she laughed, wiping at her eyes. “Just great.” 

Hopper bent down to kiss her head and knelt to give El a long embrace. “Let’s go home.” 

“Home,” El repeated, with a sense of finality. 

**~~*...*~~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, here in my world ... Joyce making it to Enzo's allowed certain things to happen. Both her and Hopper were able to communicate better, the bickering subdued, the sexual tension relieved, so there was the ability to send energy to other places. Other thoughts. Like calling up Scott Clarke with more questions. The moral of the story? Healthy sex and communication saves lives ;-) 
> 
> Also, I haven't mentioned it before, but all these chapters have references to the Rolling Stones in them, who Joyce was playing in chapter 2. 
> 
> 1\. Waiting on a Friend  
> 2\. Bitch  
> 3\. Loving Cup  
> 4\. Miss You  
> 5\. Moonlight Mile  
> 6\. Also Moonlight Mile and Waiting on a Friend  
> and for 7. TBA, I don't want to give anything away ;-)
> 
> Uno más.


	7. faraway eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter. Thanks for reading guys! This has been a lot of fun to write. And y'all have been so amazing to me. Thanks for all the awesome comments and kudos.

**~~*...*~~**

They drove home together from the mall crammed inside Jonathan's car in relative silence, no one much in the mood to talk. The shock and trauma, the absurdity of the whole situation, keeping them quiet. Joyce kept thinking about Steve piecing it all together, back before it all went down. He'd said, "the Mind Flayer made its weapon … with melted people." 

_Melted_ people. 

There were too many families in Hawkins that night whose families were not whole. Dozens dead because of Russians under Starcourt Mall, because of the past sins of the US government and MKUltra, Dr. Martin Brenner, Mayor Larry Kline. Because there would always be people who just had to mess with darker things, stuff they didn't understand, in the name of science, progress, weapons, military advancement, and cold wars. And this time it couldn't all be written off as some freak chemical spill at Hawkins lab. The lab had been closed.

And yet her family remained intact. All the people in her son's car, battle-weary, scarred, but alive. Somehow alive. 

As soon as they got home, the kids crashed hard, Jonathan in his room while Max and El stayed with Will in his. Hopper fussed over his daughter and her leg, along with the additional injuries inflicted by the Mind Flayer via Billy, while Joyce took a long hot shower. She'd been in the same clothes for what felt like days, having to put them back on at Murray's after showering there. Her skin still felt itchy from being underneath that heavy Soviet uniform, and she let the hot water soothe her muscles, bringing her back down to Earth and away from the "survival mode" they'd been stuck in for the past several days. As Joyce pulled on an old band t-shirt, softened by hundreds of turns in the washer over the years, she began to breathe easier. Before leaving the cocoon of steam in her bathroom, she pulled on her light summer robe and took a deep breath, feeling clean and human again. 

After her shower, it was Hopper's turn, and she went in to check on the kids. El and Max were sleeping soundly in Will's bed with him on the floor in his sleeping bag, his walkie at his side. Joyce wondered how many times the kid's endearing obsession with walkie talkies had saved all their lives. 

Will opened his eyes, sensing her. "So … you and the chief?" He whispered. 

She knelt down and brushed his hair from his forehead. He let her do it without complaining. She nodded. "I guess everything happened a little fast." 

He grinned up at her. "No, it didn't. It's about time." 

She gave him a little laugh, surprised at his reaction. "Maybe. You're not grossed out?" 

He shrugged. "It's different. I just … I wanted things to stay the same so maybe I could, I don't know … catch up a little, I guess. It's stupid." 

She brushed his cheek. "Oh, honey, it's not stupid. Not stupid at all." 

Her son had too much of his childhood stolen, so worried about otherworldly threats when other kids got to worry about more mundane things, like normal growing up things. While other members of their party had grown together, united in their fight for Will, he had to fight for his life, cut off from them. But this time had been different. He'd fought by their side. She hoped he could find a sort of catharsis in that. If there was anything positive to be taken away from the whole ordeal.

"I'm so proud of you," she said, tears in her eyes. "You used your instincts. You trusted them." 

Will gave her a little smile. "Like you always have."

She bent down and hugged him, trying not to squeeze too tight. "I love you so much." 

"I love you too, mom." 

As she left his room and shut the door softly behind her, Joyce's mind wandered towards Max's stepbrother. Will had essentially been saved from the Mind Flayer because so many people loved him and fought for him … but Billy? He didn't have a whole party, a whole family to fight for him. 

**~~*...*~~**

Joyce sat on her bed with a small glass of Jack Daniels, waiting for Hopper to finish showering. She'd put all their clothes in the wash, as the girls didn't have anything else to wear in the morning, and he'd been wearing the same tired garments as long as she had. She took a sip of whiskey, letting the thick liquid warm her throat. She didn't drink it often, but after everything, there was a need for something to calm her down and relax her shoulders a bit. 

Hopper walked into her room and shut the door, wearing nothing but boxer briefs and drying his hair with a towel. He stood in front of the bed, looking down at her. "Best shower of my life," he said. "I'm sorry, I couldn't put those clothes back on." 

She shook her head, watching him. He looked about as refreshed as she had been. A brand new person, his hair looking so soft and silky when wet. "I put your clothes in the machine. We can try to find something else for you if you want." 

He gave her a little smile, almost wistful. Maybe it was because they both knew there was really no need for clothes. Perhaps it was because he wasn't used to anyone doing his laundry for him.

He dropped the towel on the floor, and the little smile on his face turned into something much darker, hungry, as he took in her bare legs. They had a lot to talk about, a lot to process. Like what had been discussed with Dr. Owens. Then there was the fact that his cabin had been wrecked, and his truck had blown up, abandoned somewhere in the woods. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. But right then, neither one of them was interested in talking. It was so late, and they were exhausted, but also riding a strange energy that just wouldn't dissolve. They were both vibrating, practically shaking with it. 

" _Joyce_ , I need …" It was almost a warning. He was telling her he needed her, to take comfort in her body, but also that if she agreed, it wouldn't be gentle. It would be fucking. It would life-affirming-we-almost-died _fucking_. And hell yes, she was on board. 

She reached back to put her glass on the bedside table, then got up on her knees and pulled her t-shirt over her head. "Me too." 

He was instantly on her, their lips and hands everywhere, shoving remaining undergarments off and out of the way. 

"We have to try to be quiet," Joyce whispered, nearly breathless. 

She thought she heard him give a low laugh before he hooked a thumb under her knee, spread her thigh, and shoved himself inside of her. She gasped at the suddenness of it, her neck and back arching, grasping at his shoulders. She was impossibly wet, turned on by just being alive and with him. He groaned in her ear, the effort in trying to be quiet, making his voice shaky, the sound of it that much more delicious. 

"You feel … so goddamn good." 

He rolled them over, so she as on top of him, knowing this was the quickest way for her to get off, as they were both chasing orgasm hard and fast. It didn't take long for her, as every inch of her skin was beyond sensitive and she found herself utterly comfortable with him in a way she wasn't used to. It was the way he looked at her, in everyday life as well as now, as she was riding him, like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Like he couldn't quite believe this was happening. The confidence it gave her let her do exactly what she wanted, allowing herself to enjoy the way they moved together seamlessly, lose herself in it. 

After she came, shaking from trying to be silent, he effortlessly flipped her over again, had her on her hands and knees, the strength in him thrilling her, and he entered again from behind. He gripped her hips and thrust into her, the new angle intense and hitting places deep inside that left her breathless. She buried her face in the pillows and tried not to scream, the sound of skin slapping on skin along with their gasps absolutely filthy in the best possible sense. He wasn't exactly quiet when he came, but she didn't mind too much, as the sound of him coming apart was something she'd begun to cherish. They both collapsed sated, breathing as if they'd just ran a marathon, alive and yet a tiny bit dead, as they were both unable to move. 

Eventually, she was able to throw her arm around him and snuggle into his chest. He brought a hand up to stroke the skin of her shoulder and back so softly, such a contrast to what he'd been doing moments earlier. She found herself clinging to him, grasping at muscle and warmth. Before there was release in the form of orgasm and now she found a release in tears. 

Hopper's arm tightened around her. "Hey, hey … shhh, what's wrong?" 

She smiled against his skin and sniffed. "Nothing. They're happy tears. I'm just so … I mean, I could have lost you." 

"You didn't. I'm here." 

"I know, but … that maniac, he almost killed you. We almost …" 

"Hey. We're still here," he kissed her forehead. "We're still here." 

"We lost Alexei. Me and Murray, we just left him there, Hop. We just left him." 

"Hey, there was nothing you could do. He was gone. Joyce, look at me." 

She lifted her head, and he brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. He gave a nod, his eyes solemn. "Alexei was gone. It's a hard thing, to know someone is lost, but you kept going, and when you keep going, it saves lives." 

A tear ran down her cheek and landed on his chest. She tried to smile and nod that she understood. She knew he was speaking from experience, from the last time at the lab, from years as a cop, from fighting in a war. She couldn't imagine all the things he'd seen. All the split-second pragmatic decisions he'd had to make. 

"I know, Hop," she whispered. "I know. But did he have any family? Will they be able to get him back?" 

"It's all gonna be taken care of." 

She gave a bitter laugh. "Taken care of. He was murdered by one of his own countrymen. And his last days were spent with strangers." 

Hopper sighed. "Something tells me that he had a better time with us than he's had in a long time." 

Joyce nodded. "Yeah, but that's just so … so _sad_." 

"I know." 

"And Max's stepbrother. What's gonna happen to him?" 

"I don't know," Hopper answered from between his teeth, which told her that he had way less sympathy for Billy than he had for Alexei. 

"I keep thinking about him and Alexei, I keep thinking, thank god it wasn't one of the kids, thank god it wasn't you. Is that terrible?" 

"No baby, it's normal." 

"It's how I felt the last time," she confessed. "Is this ever going to end?" She didn't know if she meant the guilt or the ongoing saga of the Upside Down. 

He ran fingers down her back, a gesture so tender, it sent goosebumps all across her body. "I sure hope so." 

She had a lot of questions, but she was too weary to hear the answers to them, and even though she knew that Hopper would tell her as much as he could, she wanted him to not have to talk about it for a while. She just fell to pieces in his arms, and he let her, holding her tight. Everything, everyone, she loved was under her roof that night, and while she was so blissfully happy and relieved, she'd also come so damn close to losing it all. 

**~~*...*~~**

They spent the night together in an in-between state, as it was impossible for either of them to fall into a deep sleep. There was quiet love-making and rest, holding and clinging to one another just to make sure they were still there and not lost, not a figment of their imagination. They were alive. It made them a little more open, a little more honest. 

At one point she opened her eyes to find him kissing down her body, his facial hair a stimulating brush against her skin. She lay back as his mouth brought her to the brink several times before he'd back off to draw it out, keep it going, until she was a quivering mess, trying so hard to be quiet, wanting to let him do what he wanted, but also needing release from being kept on the edge for so long. When he finally let her come, it was like the whole world went white and shimmery, every thought in her head disappeared, and for several blissful seconds, there was peace, there was ecstasy. It was on another level. And she couldn't even be mad when he climbed up to her side looking about as smug as she'd ever seen him, a crooked grin on his face like some damn pirate. 

"Joyce." His grin vanished, and he was suddenly thoughtful, serious, his blue eyes scanning over her face. 

"Hmmm?" 

"I've been in love with you for a long time." 

" _Hop_." 

Leave it to him to say something with such gravity right at that particular moment. 

"You don't have to say it back," he said softly. 

She nodded that she understood. It was like they were both under a spell that night, one that prevented them from wasting any more time. It compelled all the "what ifs" to fall away, and they were left with nothing but the cold hard truth of the way things were. But this truth wasn't cold or hard, it was warm and safe, and she was tired of denying it, wondering why she'd even tried to in the first place. 

"I know," she answered. 

"We should have done this sooner." 

"I've tried to not dwell on what might have been." If she let her mind think about such things, "what might have been" could take her all the way back to high school and she was over being the masochist, and it wouldn't have mattered anyway. 

He took a deep breath and took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. "I wanted to do this sooner. I wanted to really tell you. I wanted to … but then there was El, and I couldn't start something with you and not be completely honest about everything, but I almost asked you, so many times, and I wasted so much time waiting, thinking I was making progress with those people at the lab, and I could finally tell you … but then there was Bob. And I tried to be happy for you, but I …" 

She lay a hand on his arm. "Do you ever think that things work out the way they're supposed to?" 

"I … no." He frowned. "I haven't thought that for a long time." 

Really though, how could he? With everything he'd been through. But for Joyce, she'd gotten to a place where she could perceive things that way. 

And he was being so uncharacteristically open with her, she decided to do the same. 

"I've thought a lot about it," she said, propping herself up by the elbow and facing him. "Too much, probably. I have a knack for overthinking. And if anything had been different, it could be that none of us would be here at all. Will could've been lost forever. El wouldn't have a real home, a father, a family. The whole town could've been swallowed up, or hell, with the Russians, the entire country… but somehow, things worked out. All these different parts came together, and miraculously we made it. From the day this all started, the kids put their heads together, figuring things out that people with doctorates or normal cynical adults couldn't, yet they were able to really see it simply because they're kids, such _smart_ kids, who still believe in things. And we had Jonathan and Nancy who wouldn't take no for an answer and Steve keeping everyone in line. 

She reached a hand up to run her fingers through his beard. "And then we had you. Your experience. Everything you've been through, out there in the world. There's no way any other cop in town would have read between the lines like you did, or hell, any cop out there anywhere. No one could have taken action like you. And no one else would have believed me, and you keep believing in me, and I love you for it."

"You do?" He said it like he couldn't quite believe it. 

"Oh, you didn't hear? Back in the parking lot? When I told that guy off?" 

He gave her a shrug. "I know you'll say just about anything when you're fighting for …" 

"The people I love?" 

"I was gonna say when you're fighting for a cause, but yeah sure, that works too." 

"Of course, I love you." 

He grinned, finally believing her. "You know, 1978 wasn't a great year, but the Stones did put that album out, Some Girls. I used to listen to that song 'Far Away Eyes.' It always reminded me of you. You always had those faraway eyes." 

Joyce blinked at him. "Hop, I'm pretty sure that Mick Jagger wrote that song about a groupie he met at a truck stop." 

He reached over and pulled her into his arms. " _So if you're down on your luck and you can't harmonize, find a girl with faraway eyes_." 

She giggled, this was absurd, and yet it was the best feeling, laughing in bed with him. She recited the next verse of the song. " _And if you're downright disgusted and life ain't worth a dime, get a girl with faraway eyes_. Thanks a lot, Hopper. Makes me sound like a balm for broken men." 

"Well, usually when I hear the Stones, I think of you. Always have." 

"Hm. They're pretty popular, you must've been thinking about me a lot." 

"Maybe." 

She laughed, knowing she was going to instantly regret admitting to what she was about to tell him. "There's a Heart song that always reminds me of you." 

"Oh yeah?" 

" _Cold late night so long ago, when I was not so strong you know, a pretty man came to me, I never seen eyes so blue_." 

It took him a moment to place the lyrics. "Magic Man. _Magic_ Man?" 

"Don't let that go to your head." 

"Uhh, too late. And I know that album didn't come out until 1975, so that means …"

She gave him a playful slap on the chest. "I told you not to let it go to your head." 

"We should have done this sooner." 

"We're doing it now." 

He moved to roll them over, and he hovered above her. "Hell yes, we're doing it _right_ now." 

Her breath quickened, and he lowered himself to kiss her. They moved slowly, languidly, rocking into each other, not chasing release this time, or withholding it, but letting it all happen naturally and together. 

**~~*...*~~**

In the morning, Joyce and Hopper tried to make it out into the kitchen before the kids did, but instead, they found Jonathan and Nancy making breakfast, which was more like a we-almost-died-and-averted-disaster-yet-again _feast_. 

Joyce slowly sat down at the table, a little battered and bruised from the insanity over the past few days, but also sore from some very wonderful things as well. She lit up a cigarette and caught Hopper's eye, giving her one of his knowing looks. 

Jonathan poured her a glass of orange juice, not looking either of them in the eye. "Did you get some rest?" 

She was pretty sure she was blushing. "Um, as much as you could expect, I guess." 

He cleared his throat. "That's good." 

Joyce couldn't put her finger on it, but something about Jonathan and Nancy was off, and she didn't think it had to do with everyone knowing that Hopper had been in her bedroom all night. 

It wasn't long before El and Max appeared, pulling up chairs to the table, soon followed by Will wearing a pair of headphones. 

"Will, honey, why are you … wearing those?" 

He looked at her and shrugged, pointing to his head. "Sorry, can't hear you." 

Joyce frowned and looked over to Hopper who also had a confused look on his face. 

"He's afraid to take them off," El explained, buttering a piece of toast. 

"Why?" 

Max threw El a look and shook her head, but it went unnoticed. 

"Happy screams," El answered, very matter-of-fact. Nonchalant. 

Hopper choked on his coffee. "I'm sorry, what?" 

"Different than bad screams." 

Joyce was sure they'd been quiet, and the kids had been fast asleep. She then looked over at Nancy and Jonathan, who were both beet-red in the face. If she had to guess, she'd bet on the fact that Nancy hadn't just arrived that morning with breakfast ingredients but had snuck over sometime during the night. It seemed as if her oldest son and his girlfriend had been caught up in some life-affirming activities just like she and Hop had been. 

She didn't have the heart to be upset with them. "Let's try not to further traumatize others in the house in the future, okay?" 

Jonathan gave a quick nod. "Sorry, mom." 

"But there was also ... "El began to say, but Max put a hand over her mouth. El frowned, shaking her away. 

"What?" 

El looked confused as if she didn't have the right words to explain, so instead, she closed her fist and began to knock on the table, mimicking the sound she must have heard as Joyce's headboard rhythmically hit the wall. Hopper reached over and stayed her hand. "Okay, kid, we get it. Jesus." 

The girl pointed to Jonathan and Nancy. "Happy screams." Then she pointed to Joyce and Hopper. "Not-secret knocks." 

Joyce put her face in her hands for a moment. When she looked back up, Hopper was pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. Jonathan and Nancy were still making themselves very busy with breakfast, Will was willfully ignorant of his surroundings, Max was staring at her glass of juice, finding it very interesting, and El looked utterly calm, unaware that pretty much everyone in the kitchen wanted to crawl back under the covers and not come out for a week. 

As a mom and a responsible adult, she felt like she had to at least say something. "Um. We're sorry, guys, we didn't… I mean. You see, sometimes …" 

Max looked up at her, wide-eyed. "It was nothing, really. It's fine, we don't have to talk about it." 

"Oh, thank god," Hopper muttered under his breath. 

"Okay," Joyce agreed, thinking she would talk to both El and Will privately, separately. 

Max, the beautiful girl that she was, and who was fast becoming Will's favorite friend of hers, gave her a little grin. "So I heard that Dustin's girlfriend is actually real?" 

Joyce laughed, the subject changed, and the tension instantly abated. 

Nancy set down a plate in the center of the table, piled high with french toast. "You mean Suzie-poo?" 

Hopper groaned into his coffee. "I'm gonna kill that kid the next time I see him." 

Joyce could barely take a drag off her cigarette, she was giggling so hard. "You mean Dusty-bun?" 

Will finally took his headphones off. "What's so funny?" 

Max turned to him and slapped her hands on the table. " _Turn around_ ," she sang. " _Look what you seeeeeeee_." 

Will laughed, his eyes brightening, his decision to be scandalized fading away. " _In her face_ ," he sang, playing along. " _The mirror of your dreeeeeeaaaaams_." 

"Please," Hopper said. "Please stop." 

They ignored him and continued to sing the song. Joyce threw him a glance that said "we kinda owe them this." 

Soon they'd have to deal with the aftermath of the "Battle of Starcourt," but for now, they could laugh over breakfast, before the world closed in again. Joyce made a conscious effort to be present, to enjoy the moment, to not waste any time. She laughed in her kitchen with the people she loved. 

**~~*...*~~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm @anniemar on tumblr if you're into that sorta thing. Come talk to me, because DH joining the MCU is gonna kill me. And so is this hiatus between seasons 3 & 4\. We need more ST and Jopper fic to make it through these dark times ;-) So if any of y'all want to write it, you've got a reader right here. 
> 
> Let me know what you think and I've got a continuation in the works, something fun. 
> 
> :-D


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